


Battle of Gettysburg

by Avengellie



Series: Time's Up [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 1863, Civil, Civil War, Gen, Gettysburg, Monster - Freeform, Sequel, War, creature - Freeform, like the real civil war okay, time's up, times up, vidunder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2018-07-12 22:36:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7125691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avengellie/pseuds/Avengellie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>***Sequel to "Time's Up"***<br/>Deciding to give Fury's 'program' a second chance, the team winds up back in time and in the middle of the American Civil War. Their only goal: win the battle. But as things start to go wrong, they begin to realize something much more sinister is going on; and their goal quickly changes from "win", to "survive".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Major General

_Author's Note: Okay! Finally have the groundwork for my sequel! If you're just joining us and haven't read the prequel, "Time's Up," I'd highly suggest it so you know more of what's going on! If not, that's cool too. But I'm not going to explain_ everything _to you. So. Really, it's in your best interest, bro-ski. (I'm sorry for that name (no I'm not))_

_Anyway! Here we go! Into 'history'... -E_

****_BASIC NEW MINOR CHARACTER DESCRIPTIONS (just so we don't get too lost)_  
_Major General Andrew Fletcher, Union Chief of Staff_  
_Major General Daniel Sickles, has a personal vendetta against Tony Stark for replacing Major General Meade (whom he had an allegiance to)  
_ _Brigadier General William Pendleton, Chief of Artillery_

* * *

"Alright," Nick Fury began, holding a clipboard and looking it over. "This will be a training exercise to see what you'll be willing to do when faced with difficult situations. The simulation will take you back in time to the Civil War era in America's history. Each of you will be randomly assigned a rank in either the Confederate or Union army. You will have no control which team you're on, you will have no control which rank you are given. All you need to do is fight until the battle is won. The battle you will be fighting in is the Battle of Gettysburg. This battle lasted 3 days, so try not to die on the first day; I don't want to listen to anyone complaining about how bored they are for three days."

"Okay, but isn't this unfair?" Tony crossed his arms, a scowl on his face. "That battle was won by the Union, so whoever's on the Confederate side is obviously going to lose."

"The _history_ of the battle won't determine the outcome of the winner in the simulation. So it's anyone's battle to win," Fury told him, raising his eyebrow. "Anyone else have any questions?"

"This one won't be scary, will it?" Bruce asked almost timidly.

"No."

"Will we have our weapons with us in battle?"

"In this simulation, it was decided that everyone will be equally matched," Fury looked between everyone standing around him. "So that means no powers, no hulk, no special weapons, no _tech_ …"

"Wait," Steve piped in nervously. "What about-"

"We're not going to revert you back to what you were before the serum," Fury assured him. "But you will be taken down to the strength and speed of the average man."

"Okay, good," Steve nodded, clearly relieved.

"If there are no other questions, everyone find their pod," Fury nodded to the pods and waited for everyone to lay in their pods. "Going in simulation in 3…" The lids to the pods shut and sealed. "2… 1. _Good luck._ "

Gasping softly, Tony sat straight upright in his uncomfortable bed, the sounds of screaming and gunfire meeting his ears. Blinking a few times and rubbing his eyes, he looked around, confused. Where was he? This medieval-looking dump clearly wasn't the clean mansion he was used to waking up in. There was a frantic knock at the door coupled with a voice.

"Major General! Major General!"

"Maj-what-gen-what what?" He asked sleepily, slowly crawling out of the stiff bed.

"Major General Stark! The city is under attack!" It was at that moment an all-too-close gunshot sounded, causing Tony to realize what was happening. _The simulation!_ Starting towards the door, Tony noticed the hideous nightgown he was wearing and glanced around desperately for a less-embarrassing change of clothes.

"J… Just a second!" He called through the door as he grabbed a blue military uniform off the end of the bed.

* * *

**July 1, 1863: 1200**

"We have reinforcements coming in from the North," Major General Fletcher explained to the small group of men in front of him. "With their help, we should be able to minimize civilian casualties and stop this battle before it really begins."

"And if the reinforcements don't help?" Major General Daniel Sickles chimed into the conversation. There were four men surrounding a table in a small make-shift officer's meeting room, the sounds of an all-too-near battle going on in the background. "If our Major General Stark is unable to lead us to victory through this assault?" Clearing his throat loudly, Tony gave Sickles a look.

"I'd ask you not to make harsh judgements regarding my leadership skills…" trailing off, he realized he had no idea who any of the men surrounding him were, and had no idea what to call the one insulting him. "..Sir…"

"Major General Sickles," the man informed him quickly, irritation clear in his voice. Turning to Fletcher, he spoke as if the two men were alone. "Major General Fletcher, how are we supposed to expect this man to lead an _army_ if he can't accomplish a task as simple as remembering the names of his officers?" Giving him a long, hard look, Fletcher sighed quietly, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples.

"Sickles, none of us are going to get _anywhere_ besides a shallow _grave_ if this army's leading officers can't get along."

"And I got along _perfectly fine_ with Major General _Meade_ ," Sickles spat out, giving another glare to Tony.

"Woah, woah there," Tony finally interrupted. "I think Flitcher over here-"

"Fletcher."

"Fletcher, thank you," he corrected quickly before continuing on with his point. "I think _Fletcher_ has a point." Sickles raised his eyebrows slowly, clearly judging everything that came out of Tony's mouth. "If our leading officers can't get along and come up with plans that we all agree on, we're just going to end up running this army straight into the ground. Think of about it. All those people- all those deaths- would be on our heads." Sickles watched Tony for a long time as the men sat in silence. After what could have passed for hours, Sickles looked down at the map on the table.

"So these reinforcements," Sickles continued the conversation before the argument. "They're coming-"

"From the North," Fletcher interrupted, leaning over the table slightly to place his finger on the map. "Here."

"Alright…"

"And if they're able to get here without incident, God willing, they should be here within two hour's time."

"So basically," Tony kept glancing over the map. "Basically we have to keep our men alive, the civilians alive… Without any help for the next two hours or so. Shouldn't be too hard, right?" He asked optimistically, earning weird looks from the three other men. "Right?"

"Major General," the fourth man, Brigadier General Williams finally spoke up. "We have only a small number of soldiers in the city, with thousands of civilians to protect. Our men not only have to keep themselves alive, the civilians alive, but they _also_ have to try and keep the 'feds out of the city. That's no easy feat!"

"Williams is right, sir," Fletcher crossed his arms. "And even then, its _still_ easier said than done. We need a plan. A strategy. And we need one _now._ We have _no time to waste bickering._ "

"So," Sickles looked at Tony. "What do we do?" Tony could feel sweat drip down the side of his forehead, not only from the July heat and impossibly heavy uniform, but from the pressure of the responsibility given to him. His head seemed to be completely empty, besides one sentence running through it over and over. ' _Why couldn't I have been a lower ranking officer?!'_ Looking down at the map again, his mind began racing. ' _There are thousands of lives on the line, what if I completely fuck this up? Then it's my fault they're all- Tony, this is a_ simulation _, calm down. Calm down. It's like a game. Just… Play the game…'_

"What we know," Tony began, pointing at the map. "Is there are Confederate troops here… Here… And here. Their goal is to pretty much just wipe out our army, right? They don't care who they kill, as long as it's not their own. They're trying to get into the city. They're trying to get to our people. So: if we evacuate this half of the city and place our troops, say… Here, here… And here… We can lure them into the very outskirts of the city. If we have some of troops _inside_ some of the buildings here- not all, just _some_ \- we can have the element of surprise on our side. They'll have no idea where our men are coming from." The men watched as he continued to point at different spots on the map, listening adamantly to his plan.

"And if they go _in_ the buildings to _find_ our men?" Sickles questioned, picking at his lip with his finger and thumb.

"We have some hiding out for that exact reason," Fletcher interrupted quickly, drawing out where they would be with his finger on the map. "Here. We station men on the tops of the buildings here to simply pick them off as they try to get inside."

" _Brilliant_ ," Tony suppressed a grin as he looked up at Fletcher.

"And it would only have to be for a few hours anyway," Fletcher continued. "I'm sure this plan could work until the reinforcements got here…"

"This… Could actually work," Williams agreed, nodding his head slowly, his arms crossed. "It's insane, but it _could_ work."

"At least until reinforcements arrive," Sickles said. "Then we should come up with a more concrete plan of action."

"Absolutely," Tony agreed, not wanting to start another fight.

"Alright," Williams uncrossed his arms and saluted the men, who returned the salute (Tony not realizing what was going on at first, quickly realizing what to do and accidentally chopping himself in the forehead). "I'll let them know the plan." As they all dropped the salute, he span on his heel and walked out of the room quickly. Glancing around awkwardly Tony made an attempt to make small talk.

"So," the started, grimacing slightly at himself. "That… General Lee guy. What a dick, am I right?" He laughed awkwardly only to get confused looks from Fletcher and Sickles.

"General… Lee?" Sickles questioned.

"Yeah? Confederate General Robert E. Lee?" Tony's face matched theirs in confusion. "The… The General responsible for this attack?" The two men in front of him exchanged glances before looking back at Tony.

"We don't know of a 'General Robert E. Lee,'" Fletcher explained. "But it _is_ a General Robert that's in charge of the Confederates attacking us. 'General Robert B. Banner.'" Tony's jaw dropped slightly in shock as he stared at the men. After a few moments of silence, he turned his head away, swearing.

"You've _got_ to be _fucking kidding me_ ," he flailed his arms slightly and looked at the ceiling, as if that was where the people watching the simulation were. " _Really?!_ "


	2. Murder, She Wrote

**_BASIC NEW MINOR CHARACTER DESCRIPTION (just so we don't get too lost)  
_ ** _Colonel Robert H. Chilton, chief of staff and inspector general_

* * *

**July 1, 1863: 1300  
** _**The Confederacy** _

"General Banner!" A man held his arm in a salute until Bruce remembered to wave him off. "Sir, Colonel Robert Chilton and, umm… His… Wife… Would like to speak with you, sir!" Matching the officer's confusion, Bruce nodded.

"Of course," he said slowly. "Send them in…?"

"Sir," the man saluted him again and turned on his heel, exiting the room. Blowing out air slowly, Bruce glanced around the room for what seemed to be the hundredth time that hour. It was going to take some time to get used to this 'luxury' and power…

" _Banner_ ," an all-too familiar voice spat out as Natasha Romanoff stormed in with a very confused, conflicted, and rather scared looking Robert Chilton trailing behind, closing the door behind him.

"Tasha! Oh, I'm so glad to see-"

"I'm not even _in_ this damn war," she cut him off, walking right up to him despite the warnings of her apparent 'husband'.

"Natasha, you can't-"

"Shut it," she glared back at him, causing him to immediately shut his mouth. "Bruce. _This_ is their _hilarious idea_ of what I'd be in the Civil War," she gestured almost hopelessly to her dress and then back at the man with his back glued to the door. "They actually had the _nerve_ to tell me to make 'care packages' for the soldiers like I was some stupid _stay at home mom_."

"Now, Nat, you know that's not a 'stupid' job," Bruce told her, his voice soft in attempts to calm her down. "And I'm sure we can get you a place in with the troops if-"

"Are you kidding? _Bruce_. If you don't give me an officer's job in this army, I'm going to change the outcome of this war _significantly_ by putting your _head_ on a _stick_."

"You can't talk to _the General_ like this, Natasha!" Chilton tried again.

"Well, Nat, all the official spots are filled, we don't need any more offi- Nat, what are you doing. Put the- no, put the g- _Nat_ , don't-" There was a gunshot, temporarily deafening the pair of them and permanently killing Robert Chilton. "...Was that really necessary?"

"Now there's an officer's spot open," Natasha shrugged a shoulder. Walking over to the dead man where he slid to the floor down the wall, she took his hat off his head and walked back to Bruce. "And who better to take it than someone in the family?" She asked as she tied her hair up and stuffed it under the hat.

"Any kids?"

"This asshole has _three_ ," Tasha sighed, putting a hand on her hip. After a moment, she gasped softly and pointed at Bruce. "The oldest is 18. A son, uh, shit what's the kid's name…"

"Helpful, always helpful," Bruce grinned slightly.

"Robert," she laughed slightly. "This guy is such a kiss ass to Robert E. Lee that he named his kid Robert Lee."

"But you could pass for 18."

"Aw, Bruce, you flatterer."

"And we could kill the kid, dress him up as you-"

"Claim 'the parents died tragically in the war, so the brave son takes his father's place',"

"Exactly!" Bruce grinned as he crossed his arms. "We'll just have to get an officer's uniform to fit you…"

"Shouldn't be _too_ difficult. Now to just fake my death, kill my kid…" The two sat in silence for a few moments, contemplating how to carry out the murders, both fake and real.

"Any idea who else landed on our side?" Bruce glanced over at Nat, raising an eyebrow.

"No," sighing and crossing her arms, she looked back at him. "I heard you were in place of Lee and went straight here, I haven't heard or seen anyone else."

"Maybe we're the only two on the shit side?" Shaking her head, Tasha chewed on her lip.

"No, I don't think so… There are six of us, so why wouldn't they split us in half?"

"That's a fair point," he nodded, rubbing the back of his neck slowly. "But who would it be? There's me, you… And we only get one other person, then." The two stood in silence.

"Who do you think you'd want most?" Tasha finally asked quietly, glancing around the room. Chuckling very softly, Bruce looked at the floor.

"Automatically? Tony," he glanced at her. "He's brilliant, obviously. He's sure to come up with amazing strategies to win the battle."

"That's a good-"  
"For your sake, though? Barton. And anyway, he's a brilliant marksman." Laughing softly, Tasha looked at him.

"Never misses." There was more silence.

"But then also? We have two members of our time who've actually been _in wars_. Steve with World War II, and Thor with… However many hundreds of thousands of wars he's been in. So they'd both be amazing soldiers to have. I just. I don't know."

"I know what you mean," Nat agreed quietly, sighing. "But either way, we're going to have to try and kill three of our friends." Explosions could be heard outside.

"This… This is insane. Those are cannons. Actual. _Cannons,_ "

"Yup."

"Why did we agree to this?!"

"Because we're all insane."

* * *

**July 1, 1863: 1530**

**The Union**

"Rogers!" Clint called as he darted towards the familiar face. " _Rogers!_ " Weaving in between the seemingly countless amounts of soldiers, he finally got to Steve.

"Barton?" He asked, clearly surprised to see Clint. "Oh, man! It's great to see you!" Steve told him, grinning. A man walked into Clint and nearly knocked him over, scoffing as he continued on with the rest of the troops.

"Here, let's get out of the way," Clint pointed over to where he had been standing before.

"So, hey! Do you know your rank?" Steve asked as they got to 'safety', walking past a few men and into a building.

" _I'm_ a _Captain_ ," Clint grinned, showing off his uniform. Laughing as Steve's face twisted, he gently punched his shoulder. "Ah, it's alright you're not the Cap' this time around."

"I'm a _Lieutenant_ … That's one step _below_ a Captain…" Steve explained, a slight tone of disgust in his voice, causing Clint to laugh more.

"Oh," he tried to say through his laughter. "That's rough, buddy."

" _Anyway_ ," Steve said firmly, Clint's laughter finally dying down. "Do you know who else we've got?"

"Not a clue," Clint shrugged. "I've literally just been stationing troops all day waiting for you guys to get here. And lemmmmme tell you, it's not been fun."

"Yeah, we were delayed a little bit getting here," Steve rubbed the back of his neck, remembering the struggle the reinforcements had had getting lost on the way to the city.

An all-too close explosion shook the building as a man rushed into the room.

"Captain!" Steve and Clint both turned to the man.

"Yes?" They both replied, Steve quickly remembering his mistake and going quiet.

"The Confederates followed the reinforcements from the North and Northwest! We have to leave- _now!_ " Darting from the room, Clint and Steve exchanged looks. There was another explosion, closer this time, and that was all it took to send the boys running out of the building and joining the men, running through the streets of the city.


	3. The Plan of Attack

"So, wait, wait, let me get this straight," a young man began, peering over one of the leading scientist's shoulders at a screen as he worked. "So, while they're in simulation… If we wake them up in real life-"

"They die," the scientist interrupted as if he had explained it a million times.

"Okay, right," poking at his lip absentmindedly, he put his free hand in his jacket pocket. "And when they die in simulation, they just wake up, no problem?"

"So far, we've had very few complications with them waking up, right."  
"Except with Clint Barton and a few other test subjects, right?"

"That's right."

"Do they _have_ to actually _die_ to wake up in the simulation?"

"That… We're actually unsure of," the scientist sat back in his seat slowly, scratching the back of his head. "Our hypothesis is that it depends on the nature of the simulation. Does that make sense?"

"So, if its a dangerous simulation, then yes. They have to die."

"Exactly. But if it's something like… I don't know why you'd do a simulation of this, but, if you were say, in the simulation to buy groceries. Then we _think_ you'd wake up out of the simulation once you've completed that task."

"Uh _huh_ …"

"So if your task is to buy groceries, you wake up when you've done that. If your task is to survive, you have to either die trying, or take out what's trying to kill you."

"Oh, okay, yeah, that makes perfect sense…" The man glanced around the room, keeping his head low, his face relatively out of sight. "So. Say, hypothetically, we were to try and wake one of them up. Take them manually out of the simulation. There's got to be a way to do that, right?"

"At this time, no. Which is why we've taken every precaution to keep them as safe as possible while they're in simulation."

"What happens if someone were to try? In the simulation, would they still be there?"

"Theoretically, yes. What we _think_ would happen… Their physical body would die, but their… As stupid as it sounds, their 'spirit' would remain in the simulation. Almost like they're 'possessing it', so to speak."

"Would they just disappear when the simulation ended?"

"We… Have no idea," the scientist admitted, sounding defeated at the question. Lowering his voice more and leaning down more, the man spoke softly into the scientist's ear.

"But, you have to be curious, don't you? If they would disappear after the simulation end, or if they would automatically be in every simulation afterwards? Would they keep their memories? Would they basically become a 'background character'? Unimportant and forgotten?" The scientist cleared his throat softly, shifting slightly in his seat.

"Unfortunately, we're unable to test what would happen as-"

"As it's inhumane? Immoral?" A sly grin stretched across the man's face he gently placed a hand on the man's arm, his voice growing even softer. "But for the sake of _scientific discovery_ … What's one life worth against discovering the truth? Knowing for _certain_ … Imagine the fame. The fortune that would come with this discovery. The knowledge…"

"It… It would be an incredible finding, I…" The scientist stuttered quietly, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm not saying it would have to be one of 'the big 6', but… Just think about it," slowly leaning back, he removed his hand from the scientist's shoulder and casually stepped out of the room.

"Think abou… About…" The scientist repeated, his voice trailing off. Blinking a few times, he shook his head and turned around in his chair to find the man missing from the room. "Huh."

* * *

**July 1,1863: 1700**

_**The Confederacy** _

"General Banner, the Union soldiers have retreated back into the city," Lieutenant General Thor informed not only Bruce, but the men surrounding them as well. "We're gathering more troops from Northern Virginia late tonight, and by tomorrow morning we should be at least 60,000 strong." Bruce swallowed hard, fighting the urge to run away from the pressure and responsibility of controlling so many people. ' _At_ least _60,000 men?!_ _Banner, what have you gotten yourself into…?!'_

"Thank you, Lieutenant General," he nodded once and glanced around at the other faces in the room. "Now, the plan for tomorrow so far is simple: attack. We'll continue to hit them- and hit them _hard_ from the North and Northwest. If they've gone back far enough that their men are in the hills, we'll have a distinct disadvantage that we'll need to plan accordingly for and work around. We cannot let them have the literal 'high ground'." The men around him nodded and agreed quietly, listening to him intently. "Now, if there are no further comments or questions, you are all dismissed…" There was a round of saluting and salutations as the soldiers and officers left the large tent and back to their stations. After a few moments, Bruce and Thor were left alone. Immediately rushing forwards, Thor took Bruce into an enormous embrace, nearly lifting him off of the ground.

" _General_ ," he exclaimed as he let him go, grinning from ear to ear. "That's incredible, my friend!"

"Oh, man, do you wanna trade?" Bruce asked, his eyebrows shooting up, a small smile playing at his lips. "Because I don't know how to handle this responsibility…"

"I'm sure it would help to always keep in mind that it isn't _real_ ," Thor noted, pointing slightly.

"I _suppose_ that's a fair point…"

"So do you know who the third member of our team is on our side?"

"Yeah, Nat," Bruce chuckled softly. "She was originally just the _wife_ of an important officer."

"Oh, really?" Thor laughed, just imagining how she must've reacted to that. "I'm sure that didn't go over very well with her?"

"Naturally, she killed her husband," Bruce nodded, putting a hand on his hip.

"Living up to the title 'Black Widow', I see," Thor said, sending Bruce into a fit of giggles. Quickly covering his mouth, he couldn't keep himself from grinning.

"I didn't even think about it like that," he laughed, Thor returning his grin. "But yeah, so she's killed her husband and took the rest of the day to stage her own death, kill her kid, and pretend to be her kid and take her husband's place in the war."

"Wait," Thor's eyebrows furrowed together. "Say that again…?"

"Okay," Bruce began, more slowly this time, trying to make sure what he was saying made sense. "So, Tasha killed her husband. And she killed her son."  
"Right."

"She's faking her own death."

"Okay."

"And then _pretending_ to be her _son-_ "

"The one she killed…?"

"Exactly. Okay so she's pretending to be her son, and made the _real son_ look like _her_ -"

"So her dead son looks like Tasha, who's supposedly died, so she can get away with pretending to be her son."

"Y….es?"

"Makes sense," Thor grinned, leaving Bruce feeling confused, even though he knew exactly what was going on.

"... _Does it?_ "

* * *

**July 1, 1863: 1930**

_**The Union** _

"Major General, all the highest ranking officers in the city are on their way and should be joining us shortly," a Lieutenant informed Tony before saluting him and making his exit from the room. Sighing quietly, Tony massaged his temples, leaning forwards in his seat and resting his elbows on the table in front of him.

"It's been a long day," Major General Fletcher agreed with Tony's silent statement as he walked to the table, taking a seat next to Tony. Dropping his voice, he glanced around. "Despite what Sickles may say, I think you're doing a superb job under the circumstances."

"Yeah, thanks…"

"Really. He has to remember that this attack came out of nowhere. We were under-prepared, undermanned… But despite everything, it was _your plan_ that saved us and our men." Looking over at Fletcher, Tony felt a small warmth flood his cheeks. Finding himself staring at Fletcher's lips, he forced himself to quickly look away, clearing his throat.

"I really appreciate that, Major General," he said in a rush, trying to cover up his obvious staring. Furrowing his eyebrows slightly, Fletcher leaned forwards more to try and catch Tony's eye.

"Have I embarrassed you somehow with my compliments, General Stark?" His voice was softer than before, his eyes watching Tony's every move.

"No! No, of course not, I-" Standing abruptly as a few men entered the room, Tony gestured towards the table. "Gentlemen! Thank you for joining me this evening! Please, have a sea- _Barton_?" Nearly freezing in place, Clint quickly nodded.

" _Major General_ ," he replied, his tone firm, as if trying to say ' _Not now, you idiot, you'll blow our cover!'_

"Do you know Captain Barton personally, Major General?" Fletcher asked, looking up at Tony.

"What?" Tony looked down at Fletcher, the pink immediately returning to his cheeks. "Oh! Yeah, we. We're from the same city."

"Oh," glancing over at Clint, Fletcher folded his hands in his lap. "Interesting."

As the officers slowly filed into the room, the table was set and the food was brought out. Everyone settled into pleasant conversation as though there wasn't a battle going on just a little ways away at that very moment: and it was driving Tony insane. Bouncing his leg several hundred times per minute, he was barely able to touch his food, let alone focus on the multiple conversations around him. Every so often, he'd look up from his plate to find one of the officers staring at him- usually Clint or Fletcher, the latter of which just sent his stomach into a whirl. Why was he suddenly so uneasy around him? He'd spent the entire morning with him without any problems…

"So," Major General Sickles said loudly enough for everyone to hear him and quiet down. "Despite the circumstances, I believe I'd call this a mostly-successful day, would you not, Major General Stark?"

"Of course," Tony agreed quickly, making sure to give credit where credit was due. "Though, we wouldn't have lasted much longer if it hadn't been for our reinforcements." He gestured to the officers that had joined them this afternoon.

"Thanks to you and your men, we were able to to a near-city wide evacuation, and were eventually able to hold the enemy at bay," Fletcher agreed, nodding at the officers before turning his attention to the entire table. " _However_ , as I'm sure everyone is aware, we still lost a catastrophic number of men and civilians today."

"Now, moving into this new day, we need a new plan that's better than just 'attack'," Tony added, sitting back in his chair. "The enemy has begun to leak into the North and Northwest ends of the city. Our men have fled back through the city, most of them going into the hills just South of town." Jumping up from his seat, he went to a map that had been fastened securely to the wall. "I think… If we have our men all along this line here… _And_ in the South here, sort of like a… A hook? That we stand the best chance than having our forces on one side in a straight-line type fashion." He was just pulling things out of his ass now, but he was _sure_ this was what happened in the _actual_ battle of Gettysburg. Unsure why he remembered anything about the battle at all, he prayed his plan was right and would be accepted.

"Won't our men be thinned out?" An officer towards the opposite end of the table asked, stroking his beard slowly as he studied the map.

"While that does _seem_ as though it would happen, I really don't think it would," another officer glanced between the man and the map.

"Our men won't all be in one place," a larger officer observed as he looked around the room. "They'll be much more spread out…"

"And if they're not all stretched out in a line, it'll be harder to just 'pick them off' as has been proven to happen in other battles," Fletcher agreed, a hand over his mouth as he leaned back in his chair.

"Not only that," Sickles added into the conversation. "But we wouldn't have to try and take the time and risk the men trying to transport them to a different side of the city…"

"Major General Stark, your genius planning just may save us a second time," Fletcher observed, a small smirk forming on his lips as he looked at Tony. Feeling the warmth returning to his cheeks again, he swore under his breath before forcing a polite smile.

"Well, I'm sure you're all aware that I wouldn't be able to run this army without all of your help," he complimented all the officers, avoiding Fletcher's stare.


	4. A Problem (A Very Big Problem)

July 2, 1863: 0247  
 _The Union_

" _Tonyyyy…_ " a low voice hissed in the shadows. Stirring slightly from his sleep, Tony rolled onto his side, humming softly.

"Whaaaat?" He asked groggily and impatiently without opening his eyes.

" _Tony… Stark…_ " The voice whispered again, the sound seeming to surround him. A chill ran through Tony, his eyes flashing open as he recognized the voice that was calling out to up straight in bed, he squinted to try and see through the seemingly impossibly dark room.

"Hello?" He asked quietly, holding his breath and hoping- no, _praying_ he was wrong.

" _Guessss who_!" The voice whispered, hot and sticky breath hitting the back of Tony's neck. Outright screeching, Tony flung himself from his spot in bed, spinning around so he was leaning back on his hands on the bed. Leaning over the bed and immediately moving with Tony to stay directly in front of his face, was the Vidunder, with what looked like fresh blood dripping from its sharp teeth. Frozen in place, Tony's eyes darted for half-second intervals across it's body before looking at its face again.

"Y… You're missing some… S-some appendages…" he half whispered half squeaked out, referring to the significant lack of more than two arms. The last time they had met, the Vidunder had seven arms in total, each extra one at a seemingly random length, sticking out at odd angles across its back. The smile dropped from the Vidunder's lips (if you could call them lips). The holes where its eyes should've been seemed to darken further as if it was glaring at him.

" _I made a missssstake… Lasssst time…_ "

"A… A mistake?"  
" _Letting you surviveeee…_ " Swallowing hard, Tony was a little confused because he, in fact, was brutally murdered by this exact creature claiming it let him survive.

"Hey, so, um, I've got a question," Tony stuttered, deciding to ignore its comment, his eyes glued to its face. "Why can I still see you if it's super dark in here?" The creature stared at him, creating an eerie almost deafening silence in the room.

" _I will_ rot you _from the inssside out,_ " it informed Tony, dragging a long decaying finger down Tony's cheek, leaving a burning sensation in its wake. Squealing loudly and swatting its hand away as he flew backwards off the bed, Tony practically landed on his head with his feet still on the bed, his neck suffering from the fall.

" _Major General!_ " A man shouted from outside the door as he barged into the room, holding an oil lamp that immediately illuminated the room. Quickly setting the lamp on a dresser by the door, he rushed to help Tony get to his feet again. "Major General, are you alright?"

"Wh-" Whipping around to face the bed, he saw that it was empty. As he spun around several times, examining the entire room, he found himself alone with the man.

"Sir, I was patrolling the hall and heard screaming and a loud thump," he explained. "Are you okay?"

"G-Get me Lieu-Cap-Gen... _Fuck, Clint Barton get me god damn Clinton Francis Barton_ ," Tony demanded, not caring anymore what forgotten rank Clint had been given.

"R… Right away, sir!" The man looked Tony over once more for injuries before rushing out of the room, leaving Tony his lamp. Pacing in his room, Tony began playing with his fingers, glancing every few seconds around the room and at the still-open doorway to ensure that he was actually alone.

After what seemed like an _eternity_ , the man returned with one very sleepy and confused looking Clint Barton. Grabbing Clint and harshly pulling him inside the room, Tony stood in the doorway, holding it mostly closed.

"Thank you," he glanced down the hall before looking back at the man. "And we are _not_ to be disturbed, understood?"  
"Yes, sir!" The man hesitantly saluted before Tony shut the door. Spinning around to look at Clint, he found him watching him from where he sat on the end of the bed.

"Barton, we have a _problem_."  
"A 'problem'?" Clint asked, imploring Tony to be more specific. He was tired, yes. But the look on Tony's face made him uneasy. Tony's face was too pale, his eyes too wide, as if he'd seen a ghost.

"A _big problem_."  
"A 'big problem'?" He tried again, shaking his head slightly, his eyes staying on Tony. "Define 'a big problem'."

"A _huge fucking problem_."

" _Tony!_ "

" _It's. Here_ ," he explained slowly, his voice low. Clint's own face paling in turn, he swallowed hard, suddenly taking a moment to look all around the room as if it was there at that very second. Looking back at Tony, his voice was small, cracking slightly.

" _Damn, I was hoping it was something to do with the war_ …" Shaking his head slightly, Clint tried to wrap his head around the _thought_ of the creature being in the simulation. "I mean… Is it even _possible_?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowing, Tony made a small exasperated noise, gesturing vaguely. "I didn't… I mean, I thought it just stayed _in the last simulation_."

"That's what I thought!"

"And… And Banner asked if this one was supposed to be 'scary'," he flailed his arms slightly. "Did they just outright _lie_ to us?"

"It wouldn't be the first time…"

"I _guess_ , but…"

"Or," Tony was picking at his lip using his thumb and finger. " _Or_ … Was it unplanned? Maybe it was a fluke thing? A programming error? I mean, it could happen…" Clint tried to sigh, but it came out half as a groan as he rubbed his eyes with his palms, falling backwards onto the bed.

" _Great,"_ he observed sarcastically. "This is just really great."

"Hey, who knows," Tony walked to the bed and sat next to him, eventually following Clint's lead and letting himself fall backwards onto the bed. "Maybe it was just a fluke thing. Maybe it was just me, maybe it won't even happen again."

" _Maybe_ ," Clint agreed bitterly, resting his hands on his stomach. "We should talk to Steve. Ask if he's seen anything. _Maybe_ see if we can even make contact with the other three and ask them…"

"I… Y'know, I really don't think we'll be able to make contact with the others, but hell, I guess we can _try_ …"

"Do we want to wait until morning to ask Steve, or…?"

"I could probably get someone to go grab him, too…" Tony jumped off of the bed, not wanting to wait until morning when it would be a _lot_ harder to try and make solid contact, let alone speak to him privately. "What the hell was his rank again?" He asked, glancing back at Clint, his hand on the door knob.

"Lieutenant."

"Right, right…" Tony opened the door and poked his head through, looking both ways down the hall, spotting someone standing guard a few yards away. "You!" Immediately jumping slightly and looking at Tony, the guard quickly saluted.

"Sir!"

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Tony waved the man's formalities off. "Can you go find Lieutenant Steven Rogers for me? Bring him here? He came in with the reinforcements yesterday." Saluting again, the man turned and jogged off down the hall.

* * *

July 2, 1863: 0300

_The Confederacy_

Walking down aisles through countless tents, Tasha yawned quietly, covering her mouth the back of her hand. Why was _she_ the one stuck doing nightly rounds? She was more than just a _guard_. She would have to talk to Bruce about it later. The sounds of muffled snoring surrounded her as she walked, her rifle at her side, her hat feeling a little _too_ tight. It'd been hours since she'd seen another conscious person- the other guards supposed to stay up through the night had fallen asleep hours ago. Stifling another yawn, she rounded a corner and continued down the small pathway. Glancing around, she stopped dead in her tracks, making a double take towards the woods on the other side of the tents.

" _That looked like_ …" Not seeing anything but trees, her eyebrows furrowed as she shook her head. ' _Calm down_ ,' she told herself in her head. ' _You're just tired. Anyway, it's impossible for that_ thing _to be here.'_ Returning to her original post, she took a few minutes to sit down and rest her feet. She'd been on them all day- after all, faking your own death and tracking down your 'son' to kill him too takes a lot of work. Leaning forwards on her make-shift seat (a very uncomfortable log), she rested her elbows on her knees and glanced over her surroundings. For a split second, she thought she saw it again- an all-too familiar figure. Springing to her feet, she jogged off towards the woods in the direction she saw it. She _had to be sure_. Slowing to a walk once she entered the trees, she looked around, squinting in the darkness.

Nothing. There was nothing there. Walking along the line of trees just inside the forest, she slowly took out her gun, just in case. Even though she was surrounded by trees with the edge of the forest five feet from her, the air was heavy and humid. Where there should have been bugs chirping, twigs snapping from small animals, leaves rustling in the slight breeze, there was silence.

After walking a good hundred feet through the trees, Natasha seemed satisfied enough to turn back to her post. Looking around in the darkness one last time, she turned and began a short jog back to her log. Sitting back down, she laid her gun in the grass next to her feet and leaned forwards again, her elbows resting once more on her knees. Slowly rubbing her temples, she closed her eyes, sighing softly, immediately freezing when a low whisper chilled her to the bone.

" _Natashhhhhaaaa…."_


	5. Trying to Figure it Out

**July 2, 1863: 0700**

_**The Union** _

"The rest of our reinforcements arrived some time in the night," Major General Sickles informed the eight men dressed in uniform in front of him. "While this _is_ good news…"

"It's given the enemy the opportunity to call more forces to them, as well." Major General Fletcher continued, smoothing down the front of his uniform. "Our forces are laid out in the defensive strategy we came up with yesterday, which, if we're lucky, should hold."

" _'If we're lucky_ '?" Colonel Edmund Schriver asked, his tone disbelieving. "That's all we've got? Luck?"

"Colonel, you have to understand that-" Fletcher began, only to be interrupted by an already exhausted looking Tony.

"This attack by the confederates was unprecedented, unexpected," he snapped at the Colonel. Taking a moment, he composed himself, his voice softer. " _However_ , the Confederates are almost _hilariously_ out-manned here. They don't know the land as well as we do. This attack was basically an attempt at bullying, but we've still got the advantage."

"More bodies? Is that our only advantage?" Steve asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow at Tony, his arms crossed.

"Well, I was going to say _me_ , but that could work, too." Tony's joke was met only with silence and several well-placed glares, mainly coming from Major General Sickles. "Wow, tough crowd today."

"People are _dying_ , Stark," Sickles fists met the table in front of them, getting to his feet. "Hundreds- _thousands of men_ , our _friends_. _Neighbors. Brothers. Sons._ Does this mean _nothing_ to you?!" He hissed, his fists tightening.

"Now isn't the time for-" Fletcher tried intervening, but was interrupted yet again.

"You can't _possibly_ think this is a joke?!" Sickles looked as though he was about to jump across the table and pounce onto Tony.

"I'm sorry," Tony answered sarcastically, glaring right back. "Have you never heard of coping with humor rather than breaking apart every time something bad happens? Could you imagine if the president constantly broke down every time he was criticized? _Real leaders_ use different methods to-"

"'Real leaders'," Sickles repeated. " _Real leaders?! Real leaders_ don't make _jokes_ at the expense of-"

" _Enough_ ," Fletcher put a hand on Sickles' shoulder, his touch alone seeming to have an immediate calming effect on the man. Slowly leaning back off the table, Sickles' face took on an almost blank slate. "Major General Sickles, if you'd please join me in the hall for a word?" Glancing at Tony for confirmation they were allowed to leave the room, he lead Sickles out of the room quietly. The men sat in silence for a few minutes, most unsure whether to say anything. Tony glanced between Steve and Clint giving them a questioning look, to which they replied with an equally confused expression, Clint adding a small shrug. There was a soft thump outside the door, causing Tony to jump slightly, sitting up straight. Clearing his throat, he glanced around at the men in the room before turning his attention to the door opening. Fletcher walked back into the room, brushing his jacket off casually.

"Major General Sickles has agreed to take a short walk to clear his head," he informed the men as he once again took his seat at the table. "His only son now being involved in the battle seems to have… Put extra, unneeded stress on his mind."

* * *

**July 2, 1863: 0715**

**_The Confederacy_ **

"No, you're going to let me in," a voice outside the door demanded, causing Bruce to turn his head towards the noise. Eyebrows furrowing slightly, it took him a moment to realize that the voice belonged to Natasha, disguised slightly to sound more masculine. Rushing over to the door to keep the situation from getting out of control (or leading to the officer's death), Bruce reached for the handle.

"Colonel Chilton, you are not authorized to-"

"No, no," Bruce said quickly as he opened the door. "Sh- _He's good_. H..He's good, he can come in." Glancing slightly wide-eyed between an annoyed Natasha and a visibly confused guard, Bruce nodded once. After a few moments, the guard moved out of the way and Natasha rushed into the room, Bruce smiling awkwardly at the man before closing the door behind himself.

"It _could_ be nothing, but I'm about 99% certain that the Vidunder is in this simulation with us," Natasha rushed out quietly as soon as the door was shut. Freezing, Bruce slowly turned and looked at her.

"...What."

"The creature."

"No, I mean, I _know_ the creature was the… But… _What_."

"Look," Tasha started slowly, crossing her arms. "When I was on watch last night by the woods, I thought I saw something in the trees. I went to investigate, but didn't see anything. Came out, got back to my post, and it called my name."

"And you're _sure_ it was-"

"Do you _remember_ it's voice?" Swallowing slowly, Bruce glanced away, remembering the low, whispery voice of the creature. "It couldn't be anything else." The two stood in silence for a minute, collecting their thoughts.

"So... What do we do?" Bruce asked, rubbing his arm with one hand. "Because I think we should… We should see if the other three have seen it. Him. ...It?"

"How would we ask them? Just walk up to the enemy lines and ask for the _major_ _general_?" Tasha rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "No. We have to think of something else."

"It shouldn't even be _in_ the simulation," Bruce insisted, "Fury said there wouldn't be a 'scary' aspect to this one…"

"But…"

"I know, we shouldn't trust everything Fury says," Bruce took his glasses in one hand and massaged his temples with the other. "Maybe we should get Thor?"

* * *

**0740**

"So the plan is just to _win?_ Wasn't that the plan all along?"

"This isn't even guaranteed to _work_ ," Thor tried pointing out again.

"Right now," Tasha looked between Bruce and Thor slowly. "It's the best plan we've got. If the other three are taken out, then we win the simulation and it should _end_ , right?" There was a pause before Thor sighed softly.

"The logic is sound," he agreed quietly, looking more unhappy about it by the second.

"It just feels… I don't know," Bruce crossed his arms uncomfortably. "It just feels wrong."

"We would have had to either win the war or take them out anyways," Tasha pointed out. "So whether you liked it or not, _someone_ would've had to die."

"It _is_ just a simulation, after all," Thor added, giving Bruce a small smile. Sighing heavily, Bruce re-crossed his arms and looked away.

"Next time? We're doing a damn flower picking simulation. See who can get the most flowers after an hour."

"So how do we do this?" Tasha looked between them again, ignoring Bruce's comments. "Because again, it isn't like we can just walk up to enemy lines and somehow get to the General's station." There was a silence as Bruce and Thor slowly looked at one another and then slower still to Tasha. "...What?"

"Can't… Walk up to the enemy lines because we're soldiers and would be gunned down immediately, but…"

"Can't we?" Bruce asked, his brow furrowed in concentration, watching Natasha as she slowly came to the realization as to what they were going to do.

" _Really_?"

* * *

**Outside the Simulation: ?**

**_Location: ?_ **

"Well?"

"Once we have them focused on trying to figure out what's gone wrong in the simulation-"

"Or have that idiot scientist 'test' to see what happens when one of them dies out of sim."

"Exactly. So once we have them distracted, one of us slips in and finishes them off," a pale woman informed the man in front of her.

"We aren't going to be able to get them _all,_ " the man pointed out, causing the woman to glare slightly.

"I _know_ that, Nathan," glancing around the room once, she looked back at him, crossing her arms.

"So who do we take out? We have to think about this _logically_ ," Nathan chewed gently at the tip of his thumb, his eyes drifting up to the ceiling in thought.

"Well," the woman began, shifting her weight slightly. "We just have to think about who would be the most… Annoying… To take out while conscious."

"'Melia, this feels like such a bitch move, honestly," Nathan pointed out, looking at Amelia. "Even for _us_."

"It's a _smart_ move," she pointed slightly at him. "We might want to go immediately for Banner, honestly. Or we're going to have a _hell of a time_ taking him down otherwise." Nathan's eyebrows slowly drew together.

"C… Can he even die? Because he can be shot at by… Well, a _lot_ … And…" Trailing off, he watched Amelia as she opened her mouth to answer, only to have nothing come out.

" _Uhhh_ …"

"Yeah."

"I mean," she picked at her lip with her pointer finger before shrugging. "I'd say look it up, but I don't think there'd be anything on it as he's…"

"Still alive, yeah." The two sat in silence for a few moments, considering it.

"... _Huh_."

"So directly for Banner, right?"

"Definitely," Amelia nodded once. "Alright and if we're able to get more than one… You scoped out the area, who's in the pod by him?" _Sitting_ up slightly and reaching in his pocket, Nathan took a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. Unfolding it carefully, he glanced over it.

"Stark and Th-" Stopping short, Nathan cleared his throat softly. "Thor. Tony Stark and Thor are on either side of him. Then on the other side of the room Rogers, Romanoff and Barton." He kept his eyes on the paper as Amelia watched him.

"Nathan?" She asked quietly, leaning slightly over the small round table between them. "You're going to be okay with this, aren't you? I mean, we've gone over th-"

"Amelia, it was over two centuries ago," he interrupted her shortly, looking at her. In one quick movement, he folded the paper again and put it back in his pocket. "I'm _over_ it."

"If you say so," she shrugged a shoulder, watching him still. "Anyway, _logically_ , it works. Go for two of the biggest threats first. If at all possible, get to Romanoff after Banner and Thor."

"What about Stark?" Giving him a look, Amelia recrossed her arms.

"You consider him a _threat_?" Opening his mouth to argue, Nathan slowly closed it, remembering out of the six, Bruce and Natasha were probably going to be the biggest issues for them.

"Alright, fair enough."

"So if I'm in-sim, that means you get to do the 'dirty work'," Amelia smirked.

"Wh- No fair!" Nathan protested. "You know you're better at it, anyways."

"True," nodding once, she crossed her arms. "But. How am I supposed to kill them outside of the simulation if I'm stuck _in it_?"

"Well, I don't… I mean, we could-"

"We could ask _father_." Nathan's face paled slightly as he gaped at his sister.

"Nooo, no, no," he insisted, "that won't be necessary, 'Melia. No. We shouldn't bother him with something so…"

"'Trivial'," Amelia finished, her voice lower as if mocking their father.

"Exactly." The two sat in silence, trying to think of a deal or compromise they could make. After a few minutes, Amelia finally spoke up, her voice quiet.

"We could send… _Him_ back in…" Blinking once, a slow and sly grin spread across Nathan's face as he looked back at his sister.

"They _do_ seem to love our pet, don't they?"

"And He's grown _oh-so-fond_ of _them_ , too."

* * *

New Characters: Amelia and Nathan (Twins; origin unknown, age unknown, occupation unknown)


	6. Undercover, But Not For Long

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yup okay gonna be real, completely forgot to update this on this website. For a year and a half. Mhm.   
> Wasn't until "Amber" left a billion reviews on Time's Up and then one on ever chapter on this fic (which all made me giggle, thank you) that I remembered! So excuse me whilst I update like 5 times in a row.

_RETURNING CHARACTERS (so we don't get tooooo confused):_  
Doctor Martin (He was the bloke at the beginning of chapter 3)   
_Amelia/Nathan Fletcher (see end of last chapter)_

* * *

"Doctor Martin," Nathan said quietly, coming behind the same scientist he had spoken to the day before. Sitting upright in his seat more, Martin turned his seat to look back at him. Nathan was dressed sharply, a plain white lab-coat over his dress shirt to blend in with the others in the room.

"You!" The scientist stood quickly, glaring slightly. "You're the one who-" Nathan set a hand gently on Martin's shoulder, the man immediately quieting and slowly taking his seat.

"Have you thought more about what we discussed yesterday?"

"I have," he informed Nathan, his voice soft as he looked up at him.

"And?" Pausing, the man glanced at the screen behind him before leaning towards Nathan more and whispering.

"I'm going to try it." A small smirk formed on Nathan's face. Leaning forwards, his voice was just below a whisper.

" _Banner_." The man nodded to Nathan and turned back around to face his screen. Tapping a few buttons, he paused, glancing behind him only to find Nathan was missing.

In another room, Nathan put his hands in his lab coat pockets and watched the screens in the simulation room through a one-way window. Walking casually to the window, he watched Tony and Clint look through old maps and documents while Steve actually tried to come up with a plan of action. Resisting the urge to smirk, Nathan glanced over at the other three screens. Bruce and Thor were together, holding a makeshift meeting with other Confederate officers, deciding what to do and how to possibly win the battle, Bruce trying to look more comfortable than he was and failing miserably. Stopping short, Nathan stared at Tasha's screen.

Natasha was talking to three officers wearing the wrong colors.

Watching her another moment, he walked quickly to the closest person in the room.

"What is Natasha doing? I wasn't paying attention," he told them quietly, eyes locked on the screen in the other room.

"There was a glitch in the simulation somehow and the thing from the last one got into this one," Agent Maria Hill informed him, taking a moment to look at him. "They noticed, and now she's on her way to take Stark, Barton and Rogers out to try and end the simulation. It's honestly probably the best solution at this point. Then our people can work on making sure this kind of thing doesn't happen again…" Pressing his lips together, Nathan gave a small smile in thanks.

"Yeah, that would make sense," he agreed, pausing to watch the screen for a moment longer. He knew he had to get to Amelia as quickly as possible to warn her. "Thank you." Turning, he made his exit as fast as he could without drawing too much attention to himself. Watching him leave, Hill tapped a button on a com in her ear.

"We have a suspicious figure leaving the simulation center," she said quietly into it. "I don't recognize him and he doesn't have a badge anywhere. Medium height, dark hair and eyes, wearing a black dress shirt with a lab coat over it."

* * *

**July 2, 1863: 0830**

Dressed in women's clothes she found in a nearby house, Natasha easily made her way past enemy lines, posing as a citizen of Gettysburg. She was quickly escorted to a number of 'safe-houses' the Union soldiers had set up for the city's remaining citizens.

"We'll do our best to keep you and everyone else safe," a guard informed Tasha, patting his gun on his side with one hand. Nodding once, he led her into a large room with a small crowd of women and children and a few soldiers standing guard in it. "You can stay in here. Tonight, after it's dark, we're going to lead you out of the city and to safety, alright?"

"Thank you," Tasha smiled sweetly at the guard and nodded. "Thank you so much."

"So unless you have any other questi-"

"Is there anything I can do?" Quickly interrupting, Tasha watched the man with fake hope. "Anything I can possibly do to help? Cooking, laundry, cleaning..?" She'd of course do whatever was easiest to get to the other three, even if it meant serving them dinner with a sweet arsenic sauce. Eyebrows furrowing slightly, the guard suddenly looked out-of-place, clearing his throat softly.

"You'd be better off asking one of the other women or one of the men _stationed_ here," he nodded towards a few men on the opposite end of the room, talking quietly. Looking over the room, Tasha smiled at the man again.

"Thank you, again." Walking towards the others, she quickly lost herself in the small crowd of people, sighing irritably. She wanted to do this _quickly_ , not have to talk to every single person trying to find a way to where the Generals were stationed. Her eyes drifted over the faces of the guards, taking note of their features. Finding one that looked feminine enough without facial hair, she made a near bee-line towards him.

"Hey, soldier," she flirted quietly with the man, flashing him a small smile. Blinking a few times, the lone man glanced around himself then at Tasha.

"Oh, oh, 'hey soldier' _me_?" Giggling softly, she nodded.

"You," she affirmed, leaning towards him more. "You look… _lonely...Just like me.._." Thinking a moment, not sure whether to go with her obvious flirting or not, the man glanced around nervously.

"I mean," he cleared his throat softly before looking at her. "I mean, I-I guess I _am…_ "

"Well, luckily for us," Tasha ever-so-gently brushed her fingertips over the man's thigh. "I know _just_ how to fix that...problem…" Shuddering slightly, the man's face flushed lightly as he looked around quickly. Very quietly he agreed.

"O-okay!" A sly, flirty smile spread across Tasha's face as she gently grasped the front of the man's uniform jacket, leading him through the small crowd of people. Once out of the room, she led the man down an empty hallway she had been taken through earlier by the other guard. Turning suddenly into an open doorway, she tugged the man inside an empty bedroom and closed the door behind him.

"So what's your name, anyway?" Tasha asked him softly as she began gently undoing the buttons to his jacket.

"S-Sam!" He answered her quickly as he fumbled to help her with his jacket.

"Sam…?"

"Oh, o-oh, sorry," Sam laughed nervously as he glanced at her face, his own only turning more red. "Captain Sam Johnson."

"Ooooh, Captain?" Natasha was making quick and easy work of the shirt he had under his jacket.

"Yes, ma'am!" the Captain grinned slightly before clearing his throat softly for a second time. "And, your name, Miss?" He asked quickly, hoping that his now-bare chest didn't have any sweat on it.

"Sam," Tasha smirked at the slightly confused reaction on the man's face. "Captain Sam Johnson." With one quick motion, Tasha yanked the man's pants down, his belt undone, tripped him from behind and had a dagger in his chest. Making sure not to get blood on any of the clothes, Tasha quickly pulled off the dying man's shoes and pants completely off and got changed into his uniform.

Once fully dressed, Natasha readied her newly acquired gun and shot the dying soldier in the face, to keep him unrecognizable. Putting the gun away, she spun on her heel and quickly exited the room, keeping her face low and her pace quick. Now all she had to do was _find_ the others. Should be easy enough. After a few hallways and rounded corners of the building, she stopped short, almost walking into another man in uniform. Clearing her throat quickly, she spoke in a slightly lower voice than normal.

"'Scuse me," trying to move around the man, only to be stopped, his arm outstretched to stop her.

"Ah, Captain _Johnson_ ," the man said, an eyebrow cocked, his dark eyes watching Natasha, appearing to see right through her. Blinking once, Tasha stood up straight, taking a quick glance at the last name on the man's chest.

"Oh! Oh, Major General Fletcher, I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going."

"That's quite alright, Captain."

" _But if you'll just excuse me,_ " Tasha rushed out, again trying to pass the man. Stopping her again, Fletcher kept his hand tightly on her arm, moving her back in front of him.

"Oh, I think not," Fletcher told her calmly, his eyes seemingly unblinking. "I think you'll find that you're not going _anywhere near_ Major General Stark." Freezing, Natasha only took a second to have her gun out again, shooting the Major General in the chest. Stumbling backwards, Fletcher slowly looked down at the gun wound, touching it gently before his eyes snapped back to meet Natasha's.

"Well that's just fucking _great_ , Natasha," Fletcher spat out, seemingly only mildly inconvenienced rather than… Dead. Taking advantage of her momentarily stunned state, Fletcher grabbed the gun and whipped Tasha in the face with it. Kicking her feet out from under her, he slammed her to the ground, rolling his eyes as he looked at the unconscious woman. "That's just _fucking fantastic_. _Special_ , even." Crouching down, he effortlessly hoisted her up over his shoulder and walked off. Turning into a random empty room, he shut the door and carelessly dropped Tasha on the floor. "Well, at least they can't spy on me while you're unconscious..." Pausing a moment, Fletcher took his hat off, running his fingers through the blonde short curly hair underneath. A small, sly smile formed on Fletcher's lips as he crouched down next to Tasha. Leaning close to Tasha's ear, Fletcher whispered to her, 'his' voice suddenly higher and more feminine sounding.

" _I hope you can hear me, Natasha,_ " Fletcher's smile grew into a smirk. " _Because I'm going to kill you. I'm going to kill you, and all your little play-mates._ " Standing up, Amelia Fletcher returned the hat over _her_ hair, tucking a few stray curls under it. Glancing down at her still-bleeding chest, she sighed. " _After_ I find a new shirt, of course."


	7. Pulling the Plug

Strolling into the room casually, Amelia Fletcher popped her gum as she walked to the same scientist her brother had spoken to only a few hours earlier. Leaning down to whisper in his ear, her long, curly blonde hair brushed against his neck.

“Doctor Martin, are you ready?” Confused for a moment, the man turned his head slightly to find himself staring into the same dark brown eyes he had seen the this morning.

“You- You look differen--”

“Brother,” she cut him off quietly, shaking her head slightly. “He’s my brother. Now. Are you  _ ready to do this _ ?” Licking his lips nervously, he hesitated before nodding.

“I’m ready.”

“And you know that we’re going directly after--”   
“Banner,” the scientist cut her off quietly, earning a glare.

“Don’t,” she threatened. “Don’t cut me off.” Something about her stare made him even more nervous than he had been about the whole situation, a cool sweat starting to break out on his forehead. Nodding again quickly, he kept his mouth shut. Blowing and popping her gum again, Amelia glanced around the room. Sliding a small USB to the man, she watched the other people in the room. “This’ll create a good enough distraction to try and… Wake them up.” Taking it quickly, he plugged it in, opening the file on the screen in front of him. Almost immediately, one of the members of the team knew something was wrong.

 

****

 

July 2, 1863: 0900

 

Spinning around, Tony looked around the room, his eyes wide.

“Hello? Who was that?” he asked, forcing his voice to stay steady. His voice was met only with silence as he slowly made his way across the floor towards the open doorway. A shiver went down his spine and his brow furrowed. How was he cold? He was in a heavy, full military uniform in  _ July _ , and air conditioning hadn’t been  _ invented  _ yet.

Entering the hallway outside of the room, he blinked a few times, looking down both ends of the hall.

They looked… Identical?

“Major General Stark!” a man’s voice sounded from down the hall to Tony’s left. Immediately deciding that was the better way to go, he made his way down the hall.

“On my way!” he called back to the man. However, after a few feet, he noticed it didn’t look like he had moved at all. Brow furrowing again, he moved quicker down the hall, only to receive the same result. “...What the hell?”

“Can’t you tell what’s happening?” a child’s voice sounded from behind him, causing Tony to yelp as he spun around on his heel. A small girl stood in front of him, her face and clothes covered in what looked like a mixture of dirt and blood. Her dark eyes never left his face as she watched him, a small grin spreading across her face. “You really have no idea…” Glaring at the girl, Tony glanced around.

“Have no idea about  _ what _ , kid? I don’t really have time for this,” he informed her impatiently as he looked back at her, only to suddenly jump back away from her, disgust and horror written over his face. “What the  _ hell?! _ ” The girl’s eyes had gone completely black, a thick red liquid he assumed was blood dripping from the corner of one of them. The grin, having never left her face, grew.

“What’s the matter, Tony?” Her voice was hollow and slow, the color of her skin losing all its color. The smell of blood and rotten flesh flooded Tony’s nose until it was all he could breathe in, causing him to gag, backing up still from the girl. “All I want is your head on my wall,” she told him casually, her smile now small and sinister. “Do you mind if I drain all the blood from your body? It’s not  _ necessary _ , buuuut…” 

Stumbling backwards, Tony turned and bolted away from the girl, only to run into a large, very solid object in the middle of the hall. Hearing a small giggle from the girl behind him, he slowly turned his head to look up at what he ran into, horrified to find he was right. Staring right back at him, the Vidunder stood in front of Tony, fresh blood still dripping from its mouth onto its stretched and bony chest.

  
  


****

  
  


“Find out  _ how _ it keeps jumping in,” Hill ordered, watching the screens and frantically typing into the computer she was leaning over. With scientists yelling and arguing amongst themselves, trying to get rid of the Vidunder, Amelia glanced over at the room the pods were in. Several doctors were running around the room, most of them surrounding what she assumed was Tony’s pod. Popping her gum, she let a small smirk form as she casually made her way into the room. Making a bee-line for Bruce’s pod, she looked over him, wrinkling her nose in disgust. Glancing up at the others in the room, she flipped a switch, pressed a few buttons on the control center nearest his pod and knelt down, tugging at and eventually pulling out a plug underneath it, to prevent any sort of warning noise that would alert the doctors of what she’d done. Looking up at the doctors, she made a split-second decision and went straight past Thor’s pod for Natasha’s. Repeating the process she’d done for Bruce’s pod, as she unplugged Natasha’s pod and stood up straight. Casually leaving the room, the people in the room began to realize what had just happened.

“Hey, this pod is off!”

“ _ Who turned this equipment off?!” _

Walking back to ‘her scientist’ at his computer, she leaned over him again as he continued copying and pasting files from her USB. Ignoring the more and more frantic shouting around her, she watched the screen, until one voice caught her attention.

“Her! She is  _ not authorized _ to be in here,” Hill shouted as she grabbed her gun and pointed it at Amelia. Glancing up at Hill, Amelia smirked. “Step  _ away _ from the computer and put your hands behind your head!” Smirk growing, Amelia stood up and began raising her hands, palms forwards before flipping Hill off instead, smirking. Unhesitantly, Hill shot the gun at Amelia, only to watch as Amelia pulled the scientist in front of her, the bullets shooting him in the forehead, instead. Pausing, Hill aimed and fired the gun again, hitting her target in the shoulder. Eyebrows furrowing, the smirk gone from her face, Amelia looked down at the bullet wound before looking up at Hill again.

“Well  _ that _ was unnecessary,” she informed the woman as she dug her nails into the wound, tugging out the small bit of metal and tossing it carelessly onto the floor. “Later!” Flashing her a grin and a bloody peace-sign, Amelia spun around and easily wove through dozens of punches, kicks and bullets aimed at her by surrounding guards as she darted out of the room. 

“ _ Follow her! _ ” Hill shouted, coming out of her temporary shock, running after the guards out of the room. Finding only a broken window a little ways down the hall, the group jogged to it, expecting to see a more-flattened version of Amelia at the bottom of the three-story drop.Turning to look at the guards, Hill’s voice was hard and low. “ _ Find her. _ ” Nodding, the guards left, looking for the missing woman. Quickly making her way back to the room, she attempted to regain  _ some _ order in the chaos.

“Someone get Doctor Martin,” pointing at the bullet in a small pile of blood, she looked at one of the leading scientists still in the room. “And you. Analyze her DNA. Find out who she is. There’s a possibility she could be a ‘super’.”

“What about Banner and Romanoff?” Clenching her jaw slowly, Hill looked over at the other room, watching the people trying to keep the pair alive and restabilize them in the simulation.

“For now, we keep trying,” she looked back at the man. “But there might not be anything we  _ can _ do.”

 

****

 

Union

July 2, 1863: 0915

 

“ _ Someone, please _ ,” Steve watched the back of a woman as she begged the men as that passed her, their faces solemn. “ _ Someone help me! _ ” Eyebrows furrowing slightly, he approached her.

“‘Scuse me, ma’am?” he asked her quietly, reaching out and touching her shoulder gently. Spinning around, Natasha gaped at him, her eyes wide and full of tears.

“Sir! Please!” she cried to him. “M-my husband! I don’t know where he is… And my… My b-baby boy…” Watching her, in clear shock, Steve stuttered out a response, his brow furring in confusion.

“N..Natasha? Wh..What… Are you doing here?” 

“I’m looking for my husband,” she told him again, clinging to the front of his uniform. “Please, sir, you have to help me…” The tears began to freely fall down her cheeks as she cried into his jacket.

“O-okay, okay… Let’s g-go over here and…” he let his voice trail off as he led her into a small alleyway between the buildings. As soon as they were alone, his voice grew quieter as to not attract any attention. “Tasha, what’s going on? Why are you here?” Natasha only cried harder.

“I think they’re d- _ dead _ ,” she wailed, once again clinging to Steve’s uniform.

“Who?”

“My  _ husband!  _ My  _ son! _ ”

“Nat, what are you talking about?”

“They were a part of the battle yesterday,” Natasha insisted, fresh tears trailing down her face. “They were supposed to come  _ back _ …” Covering her face with her hands, she sunk to her knees, a sob wracking through her. “ _ They never came back _ …” Steve’s stomach fell as he began to believe more and more what she was saying. Could this somehow not be a trick? Eyes trailing from her to the men passing the entrance of the alley, he decided his best option was to find Clint. After a few moments, he knelt down to the still crying Tasha, putting his hands gently on her shoulders, his voice soft.

“Tasha,” slowly she looked up from her hands at him, her eyes puffy and red. “Tasha, I’m going to take you to see your husband and son, okay?” Eyes widening, they took on an almost childlike quality to them. Nodding quickly, she let Steve help her to her feet and brushed the front of her dress off quickly, fixing her hair.

“O-okay,” she agreed, her voice shaky and thick. Leading her out of the alley again and weaving through a group of soldiers, he quickly made his way to where he knew Clint still was stationed. Only having been 30 minutes since he saw him last, it was easy. Stopping and clearing his throat softly, he stood outside the door, knowing Clint would be on the other side. Turning to Natasha, he spoke softly and slowly.

“I’ll be gone just a second, alright? And then I’ll come right back for you. I promise.” Watching him a moment, Natasha slowly nodded and looked around as Steve went inside, immediately going to Clint. “Barton, we might have a problem.” Confused at seeing Steve again so soon, Clint glanced around at the otherwise empty maps room.

“A ‘war’ problem, or… A ‘problem’ problem?” he asked quietly, looking back at Steve.

“A  _ problem _ problem,” Steve glanced back towards the door. “More specifically, a Natasha problem.” Face paling slightly, Clint was instantly on edge.

“What do you mean? Is she here?” He asked, assuming she’d only be there to kill them.

“I…” Stopping, Steve figured it would be better at this point to just bring her in rather than try to explain it. Jogging back towards the open doorway, he poked his head through and looked at Natasha. “Could you come in here for a minute, please?” Blinking a few times, Natasha looked at him and nodded, following him inside. Closing the door, Steve led her to Clint.

“Tash,” Clint practically gushed at her, hugging her quickly, kissing her cheek gently. “I’m so glad to see you’re--”

“Don’t  _ touch me _ !” Natasha pushed him away from her, glaring. “Is this why you took me in here? To have your  _ sick fun _ with me whilst my husband could be laying somewhere,  _ dead in a field _ ?!” Confused and hurt, Clint watched her, eyes flicking to Steve every few moments.

“I’m sorry, what?” he asked, now focusing completely on Natasha. “Husband? Nat, what’re you talking about?”

“My  _ husband _ ,” Natasha insisted. “ _ I have to find him, and you two are only slowing me down _ .” Tears began to form in her eyes again and Clint’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Natasha, y…  _ What _ ? C’mon, stop playing games…” Taking a step towards her, he stopped as she took a sharp step back.

“Stop talking to me like that,” she commanded. “I don’t even  _ know you _ .” Freezing in place, Clint slowly began to understand more what was going on. Looking at Steve, he pressed his lips together tightly and Steve nodded in approval to the question he didn’t even need to ask.

Taking on a new, more professional stance and tone, Clint continued talking to her.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he insisted, raising his eyebrows slightly. “I’m sorry, what was your surname?”

“Chilton,” she told him, clearly more pleased at this new respect she was getting. Pausing a moment, Clint looked down at the floor.

“Chilton?” he repeated solemnly, looking back at her, his eyebrows bowed. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry… Your husband  _ has _ passed… Lieutenant Rogers can have the body delivered directly to this room so you can pay your respects, if you’d like…” He lied, glancing at Steve before looking back at Natasha. Gasping and quickly covering her mouth, tears fell down her face again as she tightly shut her eyes. Muffled by her hands, her voice wavered.

“Y...Yes… Please…” Nodding once at Steve, Clint put a hand gently and reassuringly on Tasha’s shoulder. Quickly grasping his hand with one of her own, she kept her second hand over her mouth. Softly squeezing her hand, Clint mouthed to Steve ‘ _ Get Tony! _ ’ Quickly jogging out of the room to find Tony, Steve couldn’t help but wonder if this had happened to anyone  _ else _ in the simulation…

 

****

 

“Alright,” Amelia popped her gum as she crossed her legs, watching her brother pace the floor in front of her. “So how do we get the other four?”

“ _ You were supposed to get Thor _ ,” Nathan spat out, not so much as glancing at her.

“I told you which I thought were most dangerous to us,” she told him, her eyes narrowing. “Thor would have been next, had there been time.”

“His pod was  _ closest _ to Banner’s,” he continued, clenching and unclenching his jaw. “He  _ should have been next _ …”

“So you were fine with killing him, yet you’re not fine with keeping him alive for now?” Amelia asked, her eyebrow cocked. “Nathan, are you  _ sure _ that--”

“ _ Amelia _ ,” he cut her off sharply. 

“Alright, alright,” holding her hands up in defeat, she leaned back in her seat. “Anyway, we still have  _ no start _ on how to get the other four.”

“I  _ know _ … I…” Sighing irritably, he stopped his pacing and plopped down on the couch next to his sister.

“We could go with a power outage,” Amelia suggested, shrugging a shoulder. Shaking his head, Nathan sat back and ran a hand through his loose dark curls.

“I don’t think that would... What if it didn’t work? And they actually just  _ woke up _ instead of being stuck in the sim?” Pursing her lips slightly, Amelia considered the possibility.

“I  _ guesssss… _ ”

The pair sat in silence for what seemed like years.

“Is this really the best we’ve got?” Amelia asked in annoyance, causing Nathan to snort.

“Apparently,” he agreed, sighing loudly. “Gods, thousands of years of knowldege and we can’t even come up with a simple plan--”   
“Can’t even come up with an  _ idea _ for a plan.”   
“Exactly.”

They sat in more silence, Nathan leaning forwards and holding his head in his hands.

“So what do we do?” he asked finally.   
“We…”

“If you’re about to suggest…”

“Could ask father.”

Silence.

“Okay.”


	8. Waking Up

_**Outside the Simulation: ?** _

_**Location: ?** _

The air was hot and heavy, as though the hall had been abandoned for several years. As the twins progressed, passing solid wooden doors and cracks in the paint, Nathan Fletcher stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"You know," he admired the decoration-less walls and blackening pale wood floors. "You'd really think he'd at least try and keep this wing cleaner. Hire a maid, or…" Amelia couldn't help but laugh.

"A _maid_ ," she repeated, her tone full of disbelief. " _Here_. Nathan, I don't think…"

"I know, I know," he grinned at his sister. "Or if _anything_ , he could just…" Letting his voice trail off, he gestured lazily to the hall in front of them. Almost immediately, a golden, shimmery light swallowed up the path, only to disappear as quickly as it had come. Now instead of a dark, decaying mess, the hall was properly lit, the floors polished and shined, the walls repainted and decorated tastefully.

"You know he doesn't care enough to waste his time," Amelia reminded him as the pair rounded a corner, the illusion of cleanliness evaporating once they left the immediate area. Sighing, Nathan nodded his head, putting his hand back in his pocket. Eventually stopping in front of a larger door with a darker, more detailed wood than the rest, the pair glanced at each other silently. Sucking gently on her lip before letting it go, Amelia turned her attention back to the door. "Well…" she spoke softly, her single word seeming to have been swallowed up in the thick air surrounding them.

"It smells like rotting flesh," Nathan pointed out, wrinkling his nose up as he looked back at the door. A thought occured and he tried to hide a smirk. "Who knows. Maybe he actually-"

"You know that's not possible," Amelia shushed him quickly, as though the room on the other side of the door could hear through the thick and dense wood of the door. Hesitating another moment, she reached out and gingerly grasped the solid gold handle. Freezing, she knocked twice before turning the handle and opening the door, letting the two of them in.

From the hall's appearance, you'd never imagine that at the end of one of the corridors lead to this room. Decorated extravagantly in gold and black, the room was covered in ancient tapestries, thousands of old books on shelves, lavish rugs and royal furniture. On the far end of the room, facing the door sat a dark wood desk. Behind the desk, a black chair with it's tall back facing them. Closing the door silently behind them, the twins approached the desk. Clearing his throat very softly, Nathan spoke first.

"Father, we've come-"

"I know why you're here," a calm and dry voice interrupted him.

"Then perhaps you can help us?" Amelia piped up, hopefully.

"And why, my dear, would I do that?"

"Well," Amelia kept her face free of emotion and her tone soft and level. "You gave us this task, and-"  
" _And_ you should be able to complete it yourself." Having stopped short, Amelia pressed her lips together, glancing for a second at Nathan. His blank expression matched hers as he glanced at her, licking his lips slightly. "Or do you think this task is too much for you to handle?" the man in the chair asked simply.

"Of course not, father," Nathan informed him quickly. "As I'm sure you know, we've already taken care of two of them-"  
"Was my assignment to 'take care of two of them'?" the man asked.

"Father?" Amelia questioned, eyes trained on the back of his chair.

" _Was my assignment to take care of two of them_? The two of which whom are not even _dead_ , as I asked."

"No, sir," Nathan swallowed hard, his fingers beginning to twitch.

"This is the last thing I've assigned you to do before taking my place. I expect you to _finish it_. Once completed, you will no longer have my 'help'. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir," Nathan replied quickly.

"Amelia?"

"Yes, sir," she immediately responded, pressing her lips together into a thin line.

"You two are the last remaining of your siblings. While that is true, do not think for a second that makes you two 'special'. There can still be more to take your places."

"But, father," Nathan's brow furrowed the slightest bit. "For us to die, it would need to be a family member to kill us…"

"You think I would hesitate?"

"N...No, father."

"Good. Dismissed," the man waved a hand annoyedly at the two of them, never once turning his chair around to face them. The two left the room without another word or glance at the back of their father's chair.

"Well," Amelia began awkwardly. "What was..."

"'Helpful'," Nathan offered sarcastically, chuckling softly as he scratched the back of his neck. The pair made their way back down the hall towards the more… habitual wings of the building. "Guess we're back to square one, then."  
"No kidding," Amelia sighed heavily. They walked in silent thought until after they rounded a few corners, they had returned to the well-lit, very used portion of their building. After a few more meters, there was a cold chill in the air coming from the area they had just came. The smell of fresh blood and burned flesh became nearly overwhelming and the lights began to flicker. The twins stopped and each turned their inside shoulder back to look behind them. Gasping happily, Amelia grinned and quickly went over to the creature covered in blood down the hall.

"There you are, my little Vi-Vi," she gushed, as if speaking to a child or puppy.

" _Our_ Vi-Vi," Nathan corrected, a smile tugging at his lips as he joined his sister. Taking on the same tone as her, Nathan ran his fingertips over the Vidunder's hollowed cheek. "And have you been out having a lovely time torturing those pesky Avengers?"

"Of course you _have_ ," Amelia's movements mirrored Nathan's exactly, their shoulders pressed against one another's.

"I haveee…. Newssss…" Vidunder slowly hissed out, his tone less threatening than it had been with any of the Avengers.

"News?" Nathan repeated shortly. The pair stepped back, both crossing their arms simultaneously.

"What sort of news?" Amelia asked, her tone also 'straight to the point'.

"They'veee come outtt…. Of the ssssssimulation... " The deep voice echoed down the hall. "They're looking… For you two… Thhhhhhor… Recognized you… And now they know… Who you areeee…" Both glancing at the other, the twins smirked at each other.

"Nathan?"

"Yes, Amelia?"

"It seems we have work to do."  
"Indeed we do."

* * *

_**(A Few Hours Earlier…)** _

_**July 2, 1863: 1325** _

"We have Tasha sorta quarantined in one of the Union's safe-houses. She's waiting for someone to bring in her supposed 'dead husband' and kid. And you said Banner was…?"

"Unconsolable," Thor nodded to Tony.

"Maybe it's just something to do with the Confederate side?" Clint offered, his arms crossed as he looked between the rest of his teammates.

"I don't think so," Steve countered, leaning forwards slightly. "I think that if something was side-specific, we would've already known about it."

"He's right," Tony pointed slightly to Steve, his eyes on Clint. "There would've been something… Fury would have told us _something_ , right?"

"But what if he didn't?" Clint's eyes narrowed slightly as he brought his arms closer to his chest.

"We're just going to have to trust that he did," Thor told him, pressing his lips into a thin line.

"Okay, so something's going on out of the simulation. Then why wouldn't they just wake us up?" Clint looked between Tony and Steve, as if they'd magically have all the answers. Luckily, Tony had been paying _some_ more attention when they had been given their 'disclaimers' on the simulations.

"They can't."

"What?"

"They can't," he repeated, eyes flicking between the three men in front of him. "What, no one remembers?" Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair. "If they try and wake us up, or do anything to the pods before we 'win' the simulation or die in it, then… Well. Actually, it's untested. But what they _think_ will happen is we don't wake up. But, even though we don't wake up, we sort of become somewhat of a ghost in the-" Stopping short, his eyes widened for a moment before locking with Steve's as they both put together what had happened to Natasha and Bruce. "Son of a bitch."

"What? What's going on?" Thor's brow furrowed as he looked between Tony and Steve.

"Someone must have tried to wake them up," Steve told him quickly, his face pale. " _That's_ why they're acting as if they _really are_ these 'characters' in this simulation. Because somebody tried to wake them up." Clint unfolded his arms and quickly grasped at the wall he had been leaning on. Swallowing hard, he tried to keep his head from spinning.

"So… So do you think that we'll be able to… To get them b…" his voice faltered as he looked up hopefully at the others.

"You're damn sure we're going to find out," Tony told him confidently, nodding his head once.

"Okay, so how do we get back to the real world?" Steve asked, receiving looks from the other three. Hesitating a moment, Tony sighed and brought out a rifle.

"Whelp. I didn't wanna be the one to 'snap' and kill everyone, buuuuut…" Firing the gun, he shot Clint straight in the neck, taking off his head. Gagging slightly, everyone's faces now covered in blood, Tony worked to reload the gun.

"Here, don't bother," Thor said all-too-casually as he drew his own gun and fired it, hitting Tony in the side of the head. Having an easier to reload gun, he did so quickly and aimed it at Steve.

"Iiiiiisn't this all a little-" Steve began before he, too, was shot in the head. Humming softly to himself as his teammate's bodies were around him, Thor reloaded the gun a third time before putting it under his chin and pulling the trigger.

* * *

_**Out of Simulation: 1:40 pm** _

_**Location: Simulation Center, Avengers HQ** _

Wincing and opening his eyes, Clint's vision was slow to come back into focus, a loud ringing in his ears slowly dying down as he was able to focus more on the comotion still going on around him. A few doctors quickly tended to him, sitting him up and making sure he was okay.

" _Here, don't bother,"_ he heard Thor say through a set of speakers before the sound of a gun fired off. One of the doctors stayed with Clint while the others rushed over to where Tony began to groggily rise.

"Uuuugggghhh…" Putting a hand to his head, he slowly opened his eyes as he sat up in his pod. "Hey, Clint, sorry for shooting you."

"Mmm, don't mention it," Clint replied back, slowly swinging his legs over the edge of his pod. Hearing Thor's gun fire for a third time, Clint looked over at the screens just as Thor's turned to static and shut off. Blinking a few times, his brows furrowed together as he looked over at Tasha's screen. There she was, still sitting in the same room they left her in, still crying over a dead husband and child that weren't even hers. He felt a pang of guilt for just leaving her there.

"To be fair," Tony stood next to his pod, leaning on it to keep his balance. "Thor shot more people than I did." Looking over at the two screens still lit, he felt a lump form in his throat. Bruce was sat in his makeshift office in the Confederate headquarters, yelling at a few of 'his' officers. His eyes drifted across the room to where Bruce's pod should be, had it not been covered by a tall sheet blocking his view. "Hey," he tapped the arm of one of the doctor's nearest him. "What's the story? What's going on?"

"Oh, um," the doctor cleared her throat nervously as she glanced at the sheets around both Bruce's and Natasha's pods. "We had an intruder." By now, the other three members of the team were up and coming closer to listen to what they had to say.

"An _intruder_ ," Steve repeated, his eyes hard and cold. "How do we just get an 'intruder'?"

"That's just it," the doctor replied a little louder so the rest of them could hear her clearly. "We don't know how she got in. Just, one minute, everything was fine. The next, that creature had appeared, and there she was, unplugging pods."

"She?" Clint questioned, wetting his lips with his tongue. "Do we know who she is?"

"No," the doctor's eyebrows bowed up, showing her clear distress over the whole situation. "No, we haven't been able to get a single DNA match. But we think, judging by what happened, that she might be a 'super'."

"'Judging by what happened'?"

"I shot her," Hill informed them as she walked over, crossing her arms. "I shot her in the shoulder, and she just dug it out with her nails like it was no big deal at all. Just threw it on the floor. So, we tried running tests and…" Letting her voice trail off, she scowled over at the sheets.

"Dug it out…" Thor mused before his eyebrows furrowed. "Wait. What did this woman look like? Was she blonde?"

"...Yes… How'd you know that?"

"Curly hair. Cocky attitude. Dark brown eyes?"

"That's the one. Friend of yours?" Eyes darkening, Thor's gaze appeared far away as his eyes narrowed.

"She used to be," he informed them quietly. "She and her brother. A very long time ago…"


	9. Amelia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: Very disturbing imagery ahead. Begins after "...steady on a pod." and ends just before "Wrinkling his nose in disgust..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Seriously. Gross shit ahead, you've been warned. Twice.)

"Who are they?" Maria Hill demanded. "Thor, if you know something the rest of us don't that we should-"

"Fletchers," Thor spat out, as if the name itself was dirty. "Amelia and Nathan. The two remaining dödens barn… 'Children of death.'" As the words left his lips, a deafening whirring noise surrounded them before silencing, the power in the building shutting off simultaneously.

Silence.

"Is anyone else going to point out the irony of him saying 'children of death' and the power going out, or am I going to be the only one?" Tony finally chimed in after a few moments in the dark.

"No, I was thinking about it, too," Steve admitted almost sheepishly. Clint jumped as a phone began to ring in the darkness next to him, stumbling slightly off of his simulation pod. Blinking a few times, he realized it was his own phone.

"Oh, um," confused, he grabbed the phone out of his pocket, looking at the lit up screen. "Unknown caller…Sorry…" Quickly silencing the phone and stuffing it back in his pocket he laughed nervously before another phone in the room began to ring loudly. Just as confused, Tony took his own phone from his pocket, looking at the screen questioningly.

"...Unknown caller…"

"That can't be a coincidence," Maria insisted, all eyes on Tony. There was a banging on the heavy door of the room, and a doctor's voice on the other side.

"Is everyone okay in there? We can't get the door open!"

"We're all clear in here!" Hill yelled back, walking over to the door and the control panel on the side of it, seeing if there were any way to open it manually. "I'll see if I can do anything on this side!"

"Hello?" Tony answered the phone, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Oh, Tony," a woman's voice purred over the speaker. "At least one of you had the courtesy to answer." Pausing a moment, Tony stood up straight, his tone leveled.

"Amelia." She faked a gasp before laughing softly.

"You know my name? Honored." Within seconds, Steve, Thor and Clint surrounded Tony, all trying to listen to what Amelia was saying.

"I don't know what you're trying to pull here, but I can tell you right now, it-"  
"Don't threaten," Amelia replied shortly.

"Let me see that," Thor demanded of Tony quietly as he was handed the phone. Putting it quickly to his ear, he spoke clearly and softly. "Amelia Fletcher, you listen to me-"

"Thor!" Her voice was excited, yet still retained a spiteful tone. "Oh, we've missed you. Nathan is so excited to see you. You remember Nathan, of course…" The woman added suggestively.

"The only way you and that satkäring will see me is behind bars, Amelía." There was a silence and Clint resisted the urge to ask for a translation.

"Not very friendly."

"Not when you're after my friends, no." At this point, Maria had wandered over, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Who is that?" she barely whispered, glancing between the dark faces around her.

"Amelia," Steve told her quietly, glancing between her and Thor, still trying to listen in. Sighing dramatically, Amelia began to sound bored with the conversation.

"Look, barndomsvän," silence began to surround the huddle in the room, the air beginning to feel thick and hot. Her voice suddenly sounded as though she were speaking right in front of them in the room. "Every one of your 'friends' outside the door are already dead. The security system in the building kicked in, so all the windows are sealed off with very thick plates. Stark technology, I assume?" After the general alarm had worn off, Tony gulped slightly, suddenly feeling guilty, his own technology once again being the downfall of not only himself but the others as well. "Thor, we've agreed, and we're willing to let you live. But only you. We'll open the door to your room in a moment, and we have an exit for you just inside the vestibule outside of the lobby downstairs. You have ten minutes to make your way out. After that, we're letting our pet come out and play with everyone." As quickly as it had come, her voice left the room, the phone hanging up, the screen lighting up the home screen once more. A second loud whirring noise, and red flood lights burst into life, showering them all in the dull light. All of them unmoving, Tony was the first, as per usual, to break the uncomfortable silence.

"At… Least we can see again…" Taking his phone from Thor, he shut the screen off and stuffed it back in his pocket. A loud gasp was all it took to startle every other person in the room as Natasha sat up straight, her eyes wide and bloodshot. Taking several seconds to process through his shock, Clint bolted to her bedside, nearly tripping over not one, but two separate pods as he went.

"Natasha!" Grasping her hand tightly, he gently kissed the top of it as he looked at her face, his voice full of concern. "God, how do you feel?"

"We thought you were a goner," Steve informed her quickly as he, Thor and Maria made their way over, Tony casting a nervous and expectant glance over at Bruce, still motionless in his pod.

"I…" Her voice was hoarse as she swallowed hard and struggled to focus on Clint's face. "I…. I don't… I don't know…" was all she could muster as Clint gingerly wrapped his arms around her, shushing her quietly.

"You're awake. You're okay. That's all that matters."

"If she's awake, though, shouldn't…" Steve trailed off as he looked over towards Bruce, glancing for a moment at Tony.

"I thought they wouldn't wake if the 'plug' was pulled?" Thor asked Maria, his brow furrowing.

"That's… What we thought," she offered him, clearly as confused as the rest of them. "Maybe with the actual building power shutting off it altered something…?" Maria's eyes also drifted over to where Bruce lay. There was a soft click, like the sound of someone unlocking a deadbolt and everyone looked over towards the door. The room was silent again, Clint refusing to let go of Natasha, her arms reluctantly beginning to find their way around him as well. Very slowly, Maria took her gun from it's holster and walked towards the door, aiming carefully. Turning the knob to the door, she opened it cautiously, having no idea what could be on the other side, gun still aimed.

The combination of smell and sight immediately overwhelmed her to covering her mouth with her free hand and taking a few steps back, her eyes wide as the door opened fully on its own, allowing everyone to see inside the room once filled with their doctors and scientists. Not to say the men and women were missing, of course. Every single one was still in the room, proving Amelia Fletcher's threats to be legitimate. Steve's face paled and Tony had to turn away, dry heaving, one hand over his mouth, the other keeping him steady on a pod.

The amount of blood was so massive it began to pool in the room through the doorway. One man had his entire jaw ripped open and torn in several different directions, his eyes gauge out of their sockets. Another's head was simply missing. A woman was pinned to the wall, several various office supplies stuck through her neck, wrists and stomach through to the wall, with her eyes stapled shut. One body seemed to be missing every bone in it, while another body had been crudely shaven of its skin, piles of skin and bones strewn carelessly about the room. A woman sat upright with a hole so cleanly made through her forehead that you could see through it to the other side. On his side, a man lay, his eyelids cut off so he was forced to stare at his own heart in his hand, a gaping hole still gushing blood in his chest. On the wall, 'I still love you' was painted sloppily in blood, next to a man with a bag so tightly around his face, you could see purple and blue in his face, blood around his neck from where he tried to scratch away the bag, and subsequently the bloody stumps from where his hands used to be.

Wrinkling his nose in disgust, Thor slowly stepped towards the door, at first trying to avoid the blood on the floor before giving in and stepping through it. Fists tightly clenched, he glanced around the room before calling back to the others.

"The room is empty." His tone was flat and lifeless as he looked back at the others. "We should get out of here as soon as possible. All of us."

"Can you walk?" Clint asked Natasha softly, his brow raising in concern as he watched her. Taking a deep breath, she nodded as she slowly lifted herself up with his help. Slowly making their way out of the room to follow Thor, Clint made sure to keep his arm around her as they walked. Steve took a last glance around the room as Maria cautiously made her way behind them. Stopping in the doorway, Steve realized Tony was still in the room, now next to Bruce again.

"...Tony…" Pausing, Steve sighed as he looked at Bruce. "I'm sorry. We have to go."

"I'm staying here," Tony informed him quickly, shaking his head. "Just a little longer. Just in case. I'm not leaving him." Thor walked back to the doorway, his voice softer than it had been.

"We'll go ahead. Stay safe in here. If you haven't caught up with us in five minutes, I'm coming back for you and taking you. By force, if need be. Understood?"

"Go," Tony agreed dismissively, waving his hand before looking back at Bruce, now refusing to leave his side.

The small pack made their way slowly through the room, making sure not to step on anything- or anyone. Within seconds of the door shutting behind them as they made their way down a hallway, Amelia's voice, soft and charming sounded in Tony's ear.

"Hello, Anthony."


	10. The Trap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Okay if you read the first story it isn't that bad. But. I don't know. I was called out once (even though its in my tags..) so I'm just warning theres some gross here. Carry on.

Turning down what seemed like endless dimly lit halls, Clint started to get restless.

“This better not be one of those damned ‘hallways that don’t end cause it’s a horror simulation’ things…” he complained, mostly to himself than to anyone else.

“If it wasn’t real life, I’d probably agree with you,” Steve pointed out in turn. Stopping short, nearly causing Tasha (and himself) to fall, he quickly balanced her out, glancing at Steve.

“...You know, I actually forgot about that for a second.”

“I wish I did, as well,” Thor said quietly over his shoulder from the lead. After a few more steps, Clint stopped again, causing Natasha to curse.

“Damn it, Clint, what now?!”

“Shhh!” The rest of the group stopping, they listened to the silence, only for it to be broken by the sound of rapid footsteps. “What is that?”

“Tony?” Steve suggested, his eyebrows furrowing together slightly, praying it actually was Tony. Being in the simulation for so long without any real tending to, the team was less-than-ready to take on any enemies, especially with only one weapon and an empty hallway. Quietly getting ready to ‘pounce’ on the intruder, the team waited for the noise to round the corner. Within seconds, an out of breath Tony ran into sight.

“My god,” Tony panted, jogging up towards them, the team dropping their fighting stances. “You guys got a lot farther than I thought you would…”

“Well it’s five minutes of walking versus five minutes of sitting there…” Clint shrugged a shoulder before moving to support Natasha more. Pausing, he looked at Tony questioningly. “What about Bruce?” Shaking his head a few times, Tony stood with his hands on his hips, catching his breath.

“Nothing,” he informed them, glancing around the group. “If anything, we’ll have to come back with a rescue team.”   
“Rescue team for a corpse,” Thor pointed out, Tony immediately rounding on him, grabbing the front of his sweatshirt, only to realize he was about half his size and a quarter of his strength, at best. Taking a step back and electing to point at the demi-god instead, Tony’s tone was firm and quiet.

“He is  _ not _ a  _ corpse _ , he’s a  _ friend, _ ” pausing, his eyes narrowed slowly. “And regardless, we are  _ coming back for him _ .” Eyebrows raised, Thor nodded once.

“I agree with you there, just don’t keep your hopes up, Stark.” Turning to address the others, Thor spoke a little louder. “Come. Let’s keep going for the exit.”

Stuffing his hands in his pocket, Tony passed Thor to take the lead, Thor quickly moving in front of Tony again. Glaring for a moment at the back of Thor’s head, Tony huffed softly, glancing around at the dark red hallway.

“Why’s it have to be so quiet?” Clint asked, his voice just above a whisper.

“Shush,” Tasha dismissed him quickly.

“Well I--”

“ _ Clint _ !” The group passed through a doorway into an entryway, the room stripped bare, only one man inside.

“ _ Hellooooo _ ,  _ friends _ !” Nathan Fletcher stood with his back to the main entrance. “I see you’ve already found the way out! Unfortunately for you, we’re only allowing  _ one _ to leave...And he’s already been predetermined.” Eyes flicking over to Thor for a brief moment, he quickly looked back at the rest of the group, a grin spreading.

“ _ Bullshit _ ,” Maria Hill replied gruffly, reminding everyone that she was there, too, while quickly unloading a full clip straight into Nathan’s chest.

“Stop!” Thor yelled over the noise, holding his arm out in front of her when the gun was emptied. “No one move.”   
“Tisk tisk,” Nathan looked down at his chest, his arms behind his back, hands clasped together. 

“None of our weapons can hurt him.”

“This was a new shirt, too,” Sighing irritably, he looked up at Maria. “Who  _ are  _ you?”

“The one who’s going to make  _ damn sure _ you’re behind bars for the  _ rest of your life _ .” She replied defiantly, gripping her gun tightly, still aiming at him. Steve looked over at Maria nervously before returning his gaze to Nathan, trying to come up with a plan of attack that might work. Running, however, seemed to be the only logical thing coming to mind.

“Hmm,” Nathan mused for a moment, looking her over. “No.” Raising his hand slowly out towards Maria, a smirk grew across his face. Immediately realizing what was about to happen, Thor rumped into action.

“ _ Move, run! _ ” he commanded quickly, trying to get everyone away from Nathan as quickly as possible, but it didn’t matter. The entire room seemed to warp and darken further, the air heavy and thick, making it hard to breathe. Running through it seemed as though they were swimming as Maria’s body was jerked into the air and lifted to the ceiling. Gasping loudly, her gun clattering to the floor, she looked down in terror at the rest of the group running away from the middle of the room. Nearly skidding to a stop, Thor span around, eyes wide as he looked up at Maria. Steve, now with Natasha in his arms and Clint close on his heels were out of the room. Thor watched as Maria’s neck snapped to one side harshly. Nathan dropped his arm and Maria came hurtling to the floor, a sick crunch as she hit the tiles, a few of them under her cracking as though she weighed five times what she really did. 

“ _ Our game isn’t over, Odinson, _ ” Nathan shouted after Thor as he ran from the room, following the others. Grinning slightly, he put his hands in his pockets, leaning on the door, letting them all escape. “Not even slightly.”

Stopping to catch their breaths in another strangely empty room far from the entrance, Steve gently set Natasha onto the floor, Clint moving to take his place back at her aid.

“Did he follow us?!” Clint took several deep breaths as he steadied himself and Tasha.

“No,” Thor told them quickly, shutting the door to the room and locking it behind him, only to realize there was no point in locking it. Shrugging at himself slightly, he looked at the others. “But Maria is gone.” Exhaling sharply, Steve stood up straight.

“She was a good woman, till the end.”   
“Always the best intentions,” Clint agreed, nodding once.

“I didn’t care for her,” Tony shrugged, strangely not out of breath like the rest of them.

“What?” Steve glared at Tony.

“Tony,” Tasha gave him a look. “Just because you lost your friend doesn’t mean that you--”   
“No, I mean, I just really didn’t care for her,” a strange grin spread across his face. “She was just… Troublesssssome, you know?” Hesitating a moment, Clint took a step back, taking Natasha with him.

“...Tony…?”

“Ssssshe really just… Got in the way…” Tony’s eye began to twitch, the color of them rapidly beginning to change to a dark black. Within moments, his entire face began to change, as if growing. The skin began to peel off quickly and fall to the floor as he grew. Clothes now torn and on the floor, he towered over the rest of them, more skin falling to the floor, leaving the group staring at the slim and bloody figure of the Vidunder, grinning widely at them, its voice deep and echoing as it spoke normally to them. “But youuuu guyssss…. Youuuuu guysssss are ….funnnn…”


End file.
